Chess, A Vicious Cycle
by Dark Glass Marionette
Summary: When one game ends, it means another one has just begun.  *Alternate Fan-Ending to RE5, rated T to be safe*


**Author's Note:** Another update! Looks like I could keep up with holidays and work at home xDDD Anyway, this oneshot plays as an alternate ending to RE5 because I think the actual one doesn't fit (PERSONAL OPINION, people) and I wanted to write a more (ahem) decent version. So enjoy this little piece I am allowed to feel proud of xDD Oh, Chris' POV, by the way, so cookies for me! xDD

**Disclaimer: Apply the usual here; copyright goes to Capcom (or else RE5 would've ended VERY differently).**

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Chess, A Vicious Cycle  
_Resident Evil 5 Alternate Ending by .-SnipingWolf_

I'd finally done it.

I thanked God or whoever was up there that the syringe wasn't completely empty. Out of sheer quickness I'd grabbed it before I got on the jet. And now, I'd finally injected Wesker with the rest. It was only a matter of time until it kicked in, and it was already working wonders. I was _this_ close to getting rid of him for good, but his reserves of strength were still fully unused.

"You're just one of Umbrella's leftovers!"

I'd meant that. Looking back, that was a golden opportunity to throw my best insult at him (and I took it), but several years have gone by since that day and no matter what, I still try to imagine how that must've felt. Because I'd never forget what happened next.

For a few moments after the injection, I thought Wesker had given up. He hadn't stood up with his usual conviction, no: it was as if he was waiting for the serum to kill him. I saw myself reflected in him for the first time in ages. It usually was vice-versa: I was lying on the floor while he was standing in front of me. Of course, I was proud of having tipped the scales in my favour, but it really didn't last long. I don't know if it was the disdain Wesker had always felt towards me (but hundredfold) what got me back then, maybe it was pity; for a fraction of a second, though, I felt unable to finish him off.

And then, I heard him chuckle.

"And what do you call yourself?"

That, I admit, hit right home. He was right, after all. It was only a mission, but most of the BSAA had left Sheva and me behind. It was as if I had reached my expiration date, and I was thrown away like nothing. Our situations were different, but I could relate.

"I should've done this… long ago but… aren't you going to pull that trigger?" Wesker chuckled again, this time getting back on his feet. "I'm not hurrying up the process, mind you. Tell me this, does any of you _really _have the guts to kill me? You, Chris, have only killed those who were already dead."

"It doesn't matter," I replied. I was about to reload in front of him when I realized I was dry: I only had a bullet, and that one was already chambered. It was my last shot, my last chance. "Don't think I'm going to back away now, not after everything I've gone through."

Again, another chuckle, only it was hoarser this time: Wesker was losing strength. What got to me was that he wasn't using it to attack or move, but to just look at me and talk. It wasn't like him. But perhaps that was also part of his plan.

"Sure you won't," he said, "but what about your pride?" His smile grew wider. "Come on, you know better than to stoop _this_ low, don't you? Be considerate and think about Jill."

"Don't talk about her, you bastard!" I snapped ,and I was close to shooting him just because of my anger. "You don't have the right to say her name!"

"And you do?"

I didn't mind the question; what I did mind was how weak he seemed now: Wesker had leaned against a column and was having trouble standing. I'd never seen him like that before. Because of that, I desperately wanted to give vent to all my feelings and show him how much we could both suffer. It wasn't long though until Wesker took the initiative I didn't.

He clearly was at his limits, but he still managed to land some more hits… just like me. For once, I knew I had caught up to him and that I was at his level: he wasn't ahead of me anymore; we'd ceased to be each other's shadow. To say the least, we fought as equals.

I remember Sheva telling me she'd never forget my face at that moment: as she said, it was 'one full of conviction, self-confidence and calmness" (I _just_ had to add that; you know how I can get). There was no need to tell her back then that that was my own fight; though she confessed she felt bad because of simply watching, it was what I would've told her to do. If she hadn't, she would've probably been the one to freak out instead.

At a certain point, I thought I had a fatal wound somewhere in my body and I hadn't realized until blood fell on my hands. I hadn't sensed any pain, not at all. But that blood wasn't mine, but _his_.

Wesker was right about to strike me again when he literally froze in his place and, for the first time in my life, I saw incredulity in his eyes… along with _fear_. That emotion which had been seized me so many times before had now gotten him. I didn't know why at first, but then I took notice of his abdomen: it was bleeding, as if something brutal had pierced it. Then it clicked for me: the Tyrant's stab. His wounds were opening again; the serum had worked.

When I snapped out of my sudden shock, I watched more of Wesker's injuries open up: a scar upon his right brow, a gash at his neck and the lucky bullet I had fired into his shoulder. He fell to his knees, tried to stand up but he couldn't. That happened several times, all the while I was watching in silence as Wesker finally fell. In the end, he was reduced to a barely-breathing, bloodied human.

I didn't know what to do or say. There was _nothing_ to do and say. I was witnessing Wesker's bleeding to death like the most indifferent bastard in the world. Because I didn't know how to feel. If I felt proud, it clashed with my common sense; if I pitied him, I was disgusted with myself. And so, indifference was my only choice. But not for long.

"You did it… I'll be… damned…"

I swallowed, hard, and remained staring at him. "Save your breath," I said after a while. "Don't make it any harder on yourself."

"Save _your pity_! I didn't ask for it!" I was surprised at the strength Wesker could muster just to yell at me. It caused him to cough up blood: he didn't have much time left. Why is he wasting his time on me, I wondered, and I wanted to ask him that; instead, I asked this,

"Tell me something." At my words, he looked up slightly, enough for me to catch sight of his healthy eye. It was still burning with hate, and I'm sure that so were mine. "How much did you break her?"

And Wesker grinned, as if glad I had asked that question. "Enough for you… to suffer… as much as she will…"

"Really?"

His next chuckle was bitter, full of his last remnants of strength. "Checkmate…"

"No. The game has just started."

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_A/N: I think it was wise to leave it off here. I wanted to give the right amount of emphasis to the deep connection that ties Chris and Wesker together (NOT in the way you're thinkin', I see ya there...) and, at the same time, try to give the latter a decent goodbye. It seemed appealing to me to write about how every past wound opens up; that shows a lot (not just blood xD). I also gave a quick fix to the plothole of how the frick Chris gets another syringe for the battle on the jet. Anyway..._

_Reviews are appreciated!^^_


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